


Heavy Storm

by ClaraxBarton



Series: Kinktober2019 [17]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Kinktober, M/M, Veterinary Clinic, collaring, veterinarian Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-22 02:43:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21067850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: A weirdo walks into Clint's clinic with a huge dog.It is NOT just another day in the life of Clint Barton.





	Heavy Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madrefiero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madrefiero/gifts).

> Now edited by the amazing Ro!

* * *

* * *

There were perks to being the only vet within a hundred miles.

The perks mostly being that Clint had steady business - whether it be farmers needing him to look at livestock or kids insisting their pregnant barn cats or herding dogs needed to be looked over.

But there were also downsides.

Like dealing with assholes because he had to.

Or dealing with fucking  _ weirdos _ because he had to.

And today was some kind of special hell, because his current client/customer/total stranger who hadn’t gotten the memo that ‘80s glam rock was dead… well, the guy was some special blend of asshole and weirdo that Clint wanted absolutely nothing to do with.

“Can you help me or not?” The man - a Loki Laufeyson, according to Kate, Clint’s assistant - was sneering at Clint from his seat on the bench in the exam room.

Which was fucking weird in and of itself.

Because Laufeyson had brought in a dog - a gorgeous, ridiculously fluffy white thing with round tip ears and a mouth that seemed to be curled into a smile even though the dog had a huge gash along his side that was open and still bleeding.

In Clint’s experience, most animal owners - most  _ pet _ owners - would be standing over the exam table and trying to comfort their distressed pets.

Not Laufeyson.

The guy was actually holding a copy of  _ People _ magazine, which he must have brought in from the lobby, and he was glaring at Clint over the tops of the pages.

“Of course I can help you,” Clint snapped, and then sighed. He forced himself to take a deep breath and calm down. The guy was an asshole, but the dog needed help. “I just need a bit of information about your dog. Is he-”

“Not mine,” Laufeyson insisted. “I found him. And I found this with him.” The man dug around in the pocket of his shiny black duster coat thing and produced a very shiny collar made of some kind of black-looking metal.

He handed it to Clint, who accepted it with a frown and turned it over until he found a round, dangling tag.

_ Thor. _

There was no other information.

“Thor?” he said, word more a question than anything else.

The dog gave a miserable whine, and Laufeyson smirked.

“It appears so,” the dark-haired man said as he snapped his magazine closed and stood up. “He’s all yours now. Don’t kill him.”

“What- Hey! Hey, come back here! You can’t just-”

But Laufeyson was gone.

The dog - Thor - whined again.

“Okay, it’s okay, boy,” Clint soothed it. “It’s okay. I’ve got you now. It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

-o-

The gash turned out to not be so bad. Wide and long, but shallow, thankfully, and after Clint got the dog cleaned up and patched up, his clinic hours were over for the day and, well, the kennel out back was empty for once and he felt awful just leaving Thor there alone.

So, he gently carried the fluffy white creature home - home, which was only across the yard, in the old farmhouse that had been in Clint’s family for generations. He had converted one of the barns into his clinic, had let the fields go fallow, and tried his damnedest to forget all of the shitty memories he had of the house while he tried to form new ones.

Lucky greeted them when Clint stepped inside, and Thor whined back at the other dog from his place in Clint’s arms.

Gently, Clint set Thor down on the couch and supervised the two while Lucky greeted the other dog.

“Good boy,” Clint scratched at Lucky’s ears when he wagged his tail and tried to scoot his muzzle under one of Thor’s legs.

Thor lazily - and probably still on a medicated high from the pain meds Clint had pushed while he was stitching him up - licked at Lucky’s face.

Deciding things were okay with them, Clint went into the kitchen and microwaved a cup of leftover coffee and opened his freezer to look through his frozen meal options for the night.

Pizza.

Mac and Cheese.

Pizza.

Pizza it was.

While he sipped the bitter cup of coffee and his pizza cooked away in the oven, Clint considered the weird-ass collar that Laufeyson had left for Thor.

The metal was unique, solid and soft and so dark it looked like obsidian. But it also felt very, very strong.

Clint smoothed his thumb over the name tag.

_ Thor _ .

He had done some research on the dog while waiting for him to recover. He was likely a Samoyed, a Russian herding dog, even though he was a fair bit larger than the breed standard.

Clint leaned against the wall and considered Thor and Lucky.

Lucky was curled up on the couch beside Thor, letting Thor use his ass as a pillow, and they fit so well and easily together, taking up the entire damn couch, that Clint had to smile.

Thor’s heavy-lidded eyes slowly blinked open and he whined again.

Clint set down his mug and walked over to the couch.

Gently, he smoothed a hand over Thor’s head.

“What is it, boy? Starting to hurt?”

Thor just whined again and nudged at Clint’s hand.

Clint put the collar down on the couch cushion so that he could use both hands - one on Thor and one on Lucky.

But Thor just whined again and, instead of nudging Clint’s hand, licked at the collar.

Clint snorted.

“What, you want this back on?”

Another whine, almost as if Thor had understood the question.

Clint huffed a laugh, mostly at himself, but figured it wouldn’t hurt the dog to have the collar back on, and so he gently fixed it around Thor’s neck.

As soon as he fastened the clasp, a booming clasp of thunder reverberated through the house, and outside, lightning flashed.

“What the fuck?” Clint muttered. The forecast hadn’t said anything about a storm today.

He eased away from the couch and went to make sure his truck windows were rolled up - they weren’t - and by the time he came back inside, a few minutes had passed and-

And Thor was gone.

Not only was Thor gone, but there was something in his place.

Some _ one _ in his place.

A very large, very naked man with miles of tanned skin and bulging muscles and long, blond hair and vibrant blue eyes and-

And Thor’s collar around his neck.

“Master,” the man croaked just before promptly passing out and rolling off the couch and crashing to the floor.

“What in the fucking  _ fuck _ ?!”

-o-

  
  
  



End file.
